b3ta.com user bumless
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» Overcoming adversity

Goodbye arsehole.
I have had crohn's disease for nigh on 7 years now and admittedly it hasn't killed me, but it fucked my life up that much that it might has well have done.

When your 19/20 and your going to drop the kids off at the pool at least 60+ times a day (no joke) and with less than a minutes warning (if lucky), life becomes a little difficult. You cant leave the house for fear of dropping bombs when not over a valid target.

I started to get treated and flew through conventional treatments like steroids and was put onto immunosuppressants which again failed to work. I then was put onto "biologics" which are like hardcore immunosuppressants you have by a drip or self injection. No they did work however I then developed a narrowing of my intestine and the only way to deal with that is surgery.

3 months and 18 days ago, I had a proctocolectomy. For those of you who dont know what it is, some very nice people at the Royal London Hospital surgically removed about a foot and a half of large intestine and my arsehole, yes I am officially a proper barbie/ken bum.

I've been left with a permanent colostomy which to get at 24 years old is a bit of a head fuck but it changed my life overnight. I've gone from not being able to leave the house and get on public transport or go anywhere really to being back to normal and being able to do what I want, when I want. It's fucking amazing, I almost wish I had done it sooner. Shitting in a bag for the rest of my life is a small price to pay in my eyes to get my life back.

Better a bag than a box!

apologies for the lack of funnnys

It was about a foot and a half once out.

(I'm only putting this link up for people that are interested, its not about hits it's there to try and help people understand. lifeisballbagthenyoudie.wordpress.com/ )
(Tue 18th Dec 2012, 2:20, More)

» Bad Smells

Now as you know I am sans bumole
Now whatever part of the large intestine they removed must have been solely responsible for removing the foulest smells from your shit leaving it only moderately gag-tastic.

The effluence that currently emerges from my body could be sold to the Syrian rebels and used to wipe out a small city. Just stick one of my used bags into a catapult device and launch into an offending city and watch the fuckers come out waving white flags quicker than the french with the 3rd Reich on their doorstep.

The worst is hangover bag, it is the smell of satan's breath himself. Now usually there are little filters that let the gas out and they actually filter out the smell but when they get wet they stop releasing gas. So I wake up in the morning with a bag like the Hindenburg. Now imagine how bad one hangover fart is, I've got a bag of the fuckers. Nothing will induce vomiting quicker than a bag of hangover farts/shit.

tl:dr, No bumhole, bags smell of death.
(Tue 21st Jan 2014, 10:00, More)

» Little Moments of Joy

Ok, due to popular demand heres little dit for you.
Apologies in advance for length.

Right, so last Friday I had to go for a scope to check and see if my Crohn's had become active again as I was noticing some symptoms that usually would indicate active disease.

So to make it all lovely, you can opt for sedation, I wasn't going to bother as he wasn't putting it all the way in (ahh thank you). My doctor came to visit me in the prep room and asked why I didn't want the sedation and I said well I fancy a beer and I know your not meant to drink after sedation. "Well what do you mean by a beer?" He's seen me drink before when he bumped into me in the gay pub my dad used to own (wholeeee other story). Well only a coupley beers and a curry, so he said just to take it as I had already had a few pints and bare that in mind. So lovely I get to get off my tits on Midazolan and have a few beers.

So sedation in, warm fuzzy feeling, loverly jubbly. So scope goes in, the first or inch or two is a little inflamed. I am now my own discovery channel special watching last nights dinner on a TV. I had no bowel prep so there was a fair bit of 2 way traffic for what of a better word, it was like watching Liam Neeson in Taken when he drives against traffic the wrong way. My doctor was like Louis Hamilton with this scope with smooth maneuvers round behemoth bum logs.

Now fantastically there is no active disease, only local irritation where basically I've put on a bit of weight and its irritating where the intestine passes through my abdomen.

I can't express the relief I felt when he told me and I saw that there was no active disease I nearly cried. I'm rocking on for 2 and a half years in remission now. Losing my bumole was a small price to pay for getting my life back.
(Mon 27th Jan 2014, 13:14, More)

» Celebrity Encounters III

Afternoon tea and farts with Prince Charles
Well I don't usually rub shoulders with anyone of celebrity status however I had been formally invited to my grandads private knighthood ceremony with Prince Charles. Normally Prince Chudders doesn't get involved with this malarkey but he was a big fan of my grandad and wanted to give it to him personally especially as gramps was getting on a bit, they also wanted to give a big public event a swerve especially as he was a liability when put in a public setting. I wouldn't have dared put my grandad in a room with the Queen, he was toooo unpredictable.

So we arrive at St.James Palace all smart in my Asda smart price kiddie suit. Met an officer from the grenadier guards who gave us a the low down on royalty meeting protocol. "When his highness enters the room you will bow and address him as your royal highness"

We where ushered into a room that looked like it had all the props out of zulu adorning the walls, obviously some throw back to days of the empire. So we have me, my two brothers, mum and my grandad. Enter Prince Charles, my bum released a nervous fart. It was pungent. I'm sure he noticed as he was introduced and shook my hand. His face curled up to look at me as if i had just urinated on his crown.

So anyway tea is served and I'm drinking steaming hot tea out of some kind of fine china cup that's probably worth more than my entire action man collection. I'm shaking like an epileptic in a strobe lighting shop. The I hear in that famous prince chazza voice "so young man are you at school at the moment?" FUCKSOCKS he's talking to me. I wasn't prepared for this. "yes sir" My brain is running through a list of words not to use in this conversation. "Do you play any sports young man",

"Well I try and play rugby sir" I feel a rumbling, my rectum is becoming a pressurized vessel until it gives way and pppprrrrrrrtttttt Shit I've just farted within 3 foot or royalty again. This one was definitely audibly because I saw the grenadier guards officer stifle a giggle. Now Chudders face is visibly scrunching up and he looks hes just been told Harry isn't his. That's right, chew on my anus gas you bastard, part of me was proud and part of me was dying with shame.

My conversation ended pretty rapidly after that with him and i went to go and stuff my face with custard creams in shame. They took some press photos and that was that. Fun times. I don't get invited to meet royalty anymore.

Length: second fart was at least 3 seconds.
(Sun 8th Dec 2013, 12:34, More)

» Self-Inflicted injuries

Every one loves needles......don't they?
Many moons ago before I lost my brown leather bagel hole in 'nam, by that i mean a nice operating theater in The Royal London Hospital, I was on a a boat load of massive drugs. Unfortunately not the recreational kind but the immune-suppressant kind called Humira.

Now when I started on these self injection jobs I had to have 4 in the first go to get the drugs up to the right levels in my body. "Do one in the outside of each thigh, one in the stomach and one on the top of my thigh to see how they all feel" the nurse says. OK me thinks, I'm pretty well versed in needle play now, should be a doddle.

CLICK! FUCKCUNTSHITSOCK OWWW! It felt like someone had inserted an acid laced needle and then run a tazer through it, cue massive leg spasm and me kicking over a tray of dressings. "Oh yeah you probably hit a nerve, that can happen" Great, thanks for that.Right time for no 2. CLICK! no dramas, a bit stingy but no problems.

Right now for the stomach. "Pinch a bit of fat and inject into that" now here in lies the problem. At this point I was 6 foot 2 and just over 8 stone. I looked like I had just walked out of Auschwitz and had been captain of the camps long distance running team. There was fuck all fat on me. So anyway, pinch fat (read skin) and place the auto injector over the target and CLICK. OH MY FUCKING LORD THE PAIN WAS IMMENSE, like the devil him self had clenched his toothed bunghole down on my thumb! but why the fuck was it in my thumb? I had positioned the injector over my thumb with a thin layer of pinched skin in between it and the needle had gone clean through the skin and into my thumb and had hit the bone. Trust me those fuckers pop out with some force.

My Nurse thought it was funny to let me learn the hard way. Never injected in my stomach again. The last one was no dramas.

Length: Sharp pointy and an inch long.
(Thu 28th Nov 2013, 17:07, More)
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